ST: The Talon
by Ethan Solomon
Summary: 120 Years after the Dominion war, a Federation border patrol vessel gets involved in a Romulan conflict that it has no business in.


126 years after the Dominion war:

Lieutenant Commander Jake Elridge made his way through the main entrance of Starfleet Intelligence H.Q. It wasn't part of the main Starfleet Headquarters, and was pushed off to the side of the sprawling campus. Intelligence, up until the Dominion war had been one of the wings attached to H.Q., but after the war, and with the growing amount of Intelligence work, a new campus had been built, one of three others that were on campus in stand alone buildings. The building had been designed by famed architect Alana A Lamoure, and to Jake's eyes, was just a short stocky building, a perfect square. But it was big enough.

He had been called here by the man essentially second in charge, Rear-Fleet Admiral Mackenzie, former deputy director of New Development Colonization Procedures, or in charge of expanding Starfleet's territories. And now he held the reins of Intelligence, second only to the Secretary General, Belaka'Busar of 'Cha'SHandara, Sector 003, Tingel Arm Branch, who had taken the position almost 50 years ago. Rumors were spreading around the fleet, in certain circles, that 'Busar would be stepping down this year, and Mackenzie would take his place. Such were the rumors anyways.

Jake was on Earth for shore leave while the Talon underwent routine maintenance aboard the Serena Shipyards that orbited the planet. He was serving on the Talon as Chief of Security while she had been on a 2 year mission patrolling the Federation-Samaria border, out on the edge of the Beta quadrant. Their ship had been one of 14 designated to patrolling the outer edge of the sector, on the edge of explored space. It was boring most of the time, and he had been counting the days until the assignment ended, hoping for something a little closer to some possible action. But when his reassignment came in, it was the same position, on the same ship, patrolling the same sector, for another two years. It was good experience, but he had had enough of it at this point. Frankly, he was looking forward to this meeting because it offered the first chance at something exciting and out of the ordinary for the first time in 2 years.

The lobby of Starfleet Intelligence was deceptively expansive, with a downwards angle going downwards for miles on end, branching off into different directions. Starfleet H.Q. was built mostly the same way, for as large as it was above the ground, below the ground it was roughly the size of Texas, encompassing 100's of Starfleet divisions and projects, as well as two shipyards that churned out Defiant and Steamrunner class vessels at the fastest rate in the universe. He was going almost as far down as one could go, and he hopped unto the moving floor that headed to the back. Along the way, security checkpoints identified him through the Federation database, checking him for weapons and communication devices other then his comm. badge. He was perfectly clean, and completely unaware of the subtle scanners being played over him. If he had given any thought to the matter he would have come to the conclusion that he was being scanned, but he had no reason to think along those lines, hence, it never even crossed his mind, which was entirely focused on the purpose for his being called here. Security worked closely Intelligence, and he had considered following this path, but he had been seeking frontline combat duty, something that Intelligence agents rarely saw.

And he had seen the frontlines all right. The front lines on the edge of nowhere, peering into the abyss and waiting for something to show up. It was like something out of an Academy book regarding NASA or something. He had missed the clean up of Dominion Space, The Borg Incursions, the Sona'a. No, he had been stuck on some a scout and recon vessel. It was better then working on his father's farm, that he didn't doubt, and he was grateful to have the opportunity to serve, and was essentially happy with his post. He had just so desperately wanted to just once press the fire button on the phaser bank relays, or let loose a spread of photon torpedoes.

He reached Mackenzie's office and stepped of the mover lightly, then made his way to the door, which was locked. He waited for a moment, allowing himself to be scanned, and presently the door slid open. There was a small hallway with large curving ceilings arching above him, which led into a large, dimly lit atrium. There was a Holo-display running, some simulation between Starfleet vessels and some ships he couldn't place at all. The Holo-display clicked off and the lights returned to their normal lighting, revealing two presences inside the room. One was Admiral Mackenzie in his white and gray Admirals uniform, and then there was a intelligence operative, unspecified rank, but with the gold stripes around his arm. Each gold stripe represented a war that the wearer had fought in. Admiral Mackenzie stood to greet him, reaching out to shake his hand, and then waved to the stranger. "This is General Aperthy of the 7th fleet, Temporary Chairman of Fleet Tactical. He's in charge of what ships go where son, and he's here as an official designate of the Federation Council. That's so you know how serious this matter is. And this matter is to be kept under wraps, you hear me son?" He only nodded his head, once at each of the men. "May I have a raktajino, sirs?" General Aperthy stood up, a colossal Gorn, scaled green from head to tow, with a custom designed uniform to fit him, and ordered a raktajino from the replicator. A few seconds later and the General was delicately handing him the steaming mug. All this made the Lt. Commander extremely curious to know what the hell was going on here.

General Aperthy spoke. "Lt. Commander, you have been called here today for a simple reason, and this meeting won't take more then a few minutes. After you leave here today, a specialized set of orders and command regulations will be updated to your personal PADD, and these files are highly classified. The Admiral will explain the rest of your assignment." Admiral Mackenzie was sitting behind his desk, his eyes dancing over this young human male, wondering if he had made the right choice. Either way, there was no time left. "Mr. Elridge, your mission is this; a new Captain is taking over the Talon. Her name is Captain Shar'al, formerly Commander of the U.S.S. Einstein. She is a Romulan by birth, Federation Asylum Grantee Number 1897264. mander, your orders, from both the Federation Council and Starfleet Command, are to simply keep your eyes on the new Captain. We have nothing specific for you, just the request that you keep your eyes open. The command codes being sent to your PADD are authorization codes that will put the Talon at your command, overriding the Captains command codes. You are being promoted to Commander of the Talon to aid in this mission. This is a huge responsibility. Are you game, Commander Elridge?"

His head was spinning in the processing power required to quickly process this information. Spying? That's what it sounded like from where he was sitting. And he had heard of this Romulan Commander before, but had never taken it seriously. He hadn't realized that she had been progressing through the ranks so quickly. Either way, the job had to be done; he understood why command would think that this was necessary. Hell, if he were in charge, he would certainly do something like this. His own Father had served in the 2378 engagements on Bastarilla and her neighboring planets, and had seen first hand the brutality capable of the Star Empire. Rather then allowing the planet to fall into Federation hands, along with all the Treema-Lithium in that system into Federation hand's, the Empire had detonated a tactical weapon in Starrilla, the sun of Bastarilla's system. One indigenous species on Vertigrilaa, the 6th planet in the system had been completely wiped out, along with the 9th Fleet, which had been positioned there after the retreat of the Romulan Fleet.

Of course, less then a year later, Starfleet had made amends and they had gone on once again respecting borders and expanding territory on both sides, until the next time in 2380, and again twice more in 81. And on and on, the cycle of violence repeating itself continuously until the Alpha De Procte on Gamorris in 2400. Suffice it to sat that the Commander was happy to take on this mission. "Sir, it would be my pleasure sir." The General stood up, shook the newly minted Commander's hand and left the room, leaving Jake alone with the Admiral. Jake was just going go to leave, but a concern hit him as he was halfway out the door, so he did a quick about face. The Admiral was already busying himself with a cup of raktajino and a data PADD. "Admiral…is there no other information, nothing at all?" The Admiral looked up, the creases in his face forming deep frown lines along his forehead. The Admiral was 142, and still had another 20 years of service left in him. But the story all came out with the eyes, the eyes that betrayed the weariness behind them. "Son, what's your fucking problem?" A slight nervous cough emitted from Jakes throat. "Well sir, the mission given is…very vague in its parameters sir." The Admiral, who up until this point hadn't even looked up from his PADD, his pale grey eyes now lifted up to lock upon Jakes. "Son, if it appears that she is doing anything against Starfleet regulations out there, you relieve her of her command, as is your duty as X.O. of the vessel. The situation is not the same in Samaria as when the Talon left. You will be briefed in detail as per the normal ships briefing." At this he turned back to his PADD, clearly dismissing the Commander. So he made his way out and down unto the walkway that slowly brought him to the glaring sunlight at the front of the building. AS he stepped off the walkway, the prettiest little Yeoman came up to him from behind her desk at the reception area and handed him a small open box, his Commaders insignia pins inside. She smiled up at him. "Congratulations Commander." He smiled back at her, his day suddenly not just more interesting, but a lot brighter. "Thank you Yeoman."

Part 2: En Route to Sector 00197; Samaria, 7 Days Later

The Talon was of the Noble class of vessels, an entire self sufficient moving science and repair base, melded with the expansionist package of sensor suite and weapons and armor. She remained in cloaked status for her entire journey through the Federation and out into Samarian space, where there hosts paid them so little attention, but happy that the Federation deemed there sector important enough for a scout ship. It gave them a nice sense of security, one many expansion sectors didn't enjoy. But the Talon didn't interfere at all in local matter's, occupying itself with scientific experiments out in no mans land, its sensor suites always turned outwards in the hopes or fears that something would show up on their screens one day. The Samarians were a generally quiet humanoid species, mining their system for Deuterium and Latinum and selling it out on the Federation markets for a nice mint. Visitors were allowed, but not encouraged. They preferred to keep to themselves, having joined the Federation only 20 years ago after a costly war with the Gorn, who occupied three systems adjacent to the Samarian solar system. The war had of course been over resources, and had been carried out mostly through singular acts of terrorism, wiping out huge amounts of civilians on both sides over a period of 48 years before the Federation had stepped in, offering it sanctuary from the onslaught of Gorn ships. After Starfleet sent a battalion out, there hadn't been any resistance from the Gorn Empire, they had stepped down and hadn't been heard from since out here. The Gorn had instead focused inwardly, devoting there resources to stockpiling weapons and plotting something new, and without a doubt, harmful and violent. The 47th Battalion had moved out less then a year afterwards, and the Talon had been left behind as the sole remaining Starfleet ship. The truth was that the Gorn ships hadn't required more then the Talon to start with, but Command had deemed it necessary for the Samarians to understand the resources that could be called upon to help them. And it had been appreciated, and so far the relationship was proving beneficial for both sides, vital supplies being shipped out to the Federation, and Samaria was now able to live a peaceful and relatively prosperous existence. Samarian space was huge and mostly empty, covering a total space of 50 Parsecs, or 2 star systems. Her borders touched Federation, Romulan as well as Gorn space, two out of three of these cultures were extremely hostile to Samaria, and if not for the Federation stepping in, all Samarians would likely be under harsh slave labor at best, and extinct at worse.

So the Talon moved through Federation territory, her shields and cloak always engaged as per standard regs. The cloaks were used to withhold fleet numbers and arrangement from all the vultures always eyeing Federation territory. As she traveled at Warp speed, the crew prepared themselves for next two weeks, one in transit and the second setting up station once they arrived in sector. After that, it was just coasting along. But as the Admiral had warned him, things had changed. On the second day out a senior staff meeting was held at 1400 hours, and it was the first time Jake had been able to gauge his new Captain. Up until then they had both been busy running about the ship getting set up and acquainted with the systems and hadn't had much opportunity to sit around and talk. He didn't have a bad impression or anything; she actually seemed to him to be an exemplary officer from his point of view.

"And so in conclusion, since the Samarian Navy is now operational, what little security emphasis in our mandate no longer exists. Samaria petitioned the Federation to be allowed exclusive control of their system, and it has been granted. Thus, our mandate is now only scientific, and we have been explicitly ordered not to interfere in Samarian matters from here on out, and I plan on following those orders carefully. Any questions people?" Everyone shook their heads in the negative; the briefing had been thorough, covering all the experiments that needed to be done as well as routine scans for the outlying system. According to the Federation map of Colonization Procedure, the Federation could not handle absorbing more territory and expanding her borders, as per The Triederian Accords, which included all the major powers of the Alpha Quadrant.

During the few off hours that he had he off duty he sat in the one-seven lounge and read up on the new crewmen that had shipped out with them, the upgrades that had been installed during the dry-dock, and the new Captain. The new crewmen was comprised of a healthy mix of 27 Humans, 9 Vulcans, 14 Andorians, 8 Tellerites, 2 Ferengi and 1 Vorta thrown into the rest of the 800 civilian passengers and there families along with the 278 Starfleet crewmen already occupying the ship. Captain Shar'al personal profile had been included in the files transmitted to his personal storage in his main Starfleet archive account, and he had downloaded the file too one of his personal PADD's. Captain Ris'eta Shar'al had ran from the Romulan Star Empire, had been raised on Remus with parents that had both served in the military. She had requested asylum and had been allowed to join Starfleet at the age of 14, 4 years under age. Explained how she had gotten a Captaincy by 32, and she was the fifth youngest serving Captain in the fleet now. She had served during the Borg attacks on Sintas VII as a Lieutenant on the Eisenhower, and had received two medals, one for Distinction in Combat, and one for Heroic Action in Saving Comrades. The second medal had been earned 4 years after the Borg attacks during a sneak attack by a species called Saurans during a First Contact mission that had gone horribly wrong. After the Eisenhower had been destroyed, circa 227, the Lieutenant had been posted on the U.S.S. Esmeralda, a Tetonic class vessel that had been part of the 3rd Fleet, and was stationed permanently across from Breen territory and saw constant combat. She had served with distinction and her former Captain had written report after glowing report on his X.O. and had recommended a command at the earliest opportunity for her, which she had received less then 3 years after being posted to the Esmeralda. The Talon was a huge responsibility, no little scout vessel, but a world unto itself, with small communities living inside of her hull. This was not a combat ship by any means, although she was certainly well enough armed and armored.

He finished reading the report on the last day before their arrival in the Samarian system, in his quarters before turning in for the night. He dreamt that the Talon had been destroyed, nothing new there other then Captain Shar'al's inclusion. He had had these dreams for years now, and they told him nothing about his situation. The mood of the crew was very relaxed considering how hard they had been working the previous week. Most were all looking forward to settling in and getting too work on their various projects, the majority of the different aspects of Starfleet and the Federation as a whole being represented out here, what they considered the forefront of the frontier, the front lines for people of that sort. But he was the Starfleet kind, one that had brought through Security, and that's the way he viewed things. He had no projects, just ship's security to worry about. Now duty rosters had to be approved, shift changes and watch duties, transfers, endless reams of commands that needed dictating, his input, his orders and on and on. It all just made him envious for the day he would get his own command, the tedium of being X.O., watching everyone around him glow in excitement about their projects could be overwhelming

After the first few weeks, he settled into a routine, as everyone always did. The crew was busy with whatever they hell they were doing, and everything was relatively quiet. Entering the system they had spotted the new Samarian Navy class of vessels patrolling the system. Pulling up the specs on these little ships, he saw that they barely classified as space going vessels. These were not ships that were properly equipped to defend this area of space, the resources in this sector were valuable, and before too long, they would come under the sights if the Gorn, or the Breen, and of course, the Romulans, who had greedily sought this area before and could be assured of trying again. Jake had thought it foolish of the Samarians to think that they were capable of handling this situation, with ships that couldn't break Warp factor, no shields, and antiquated phaser emitters that wouldn't even penetrate one of the Talon's small Hawk class multi-purpose shuttles.

There were always signs of cloaked Romulan warbirds throughout the area, specific Gamma and Neutrino emissions that were the signs of Romulan cloaking emitters. Every time he received his daily sensor briefings at 1400 hours, there were always, always multiple tracking of suspected Romulan vessels passing through the area on specific courses, likely surveillance on the system. But their mandate here was purely scientific, and while once the Talon's mighty weapons array would have turned on the Romulans, now they made only casual reference to them in reports, reports that were sent off to Starfleet and filed away in intelligence. The Captain got the same reports that he did, only more comprehensive, and also had briefings with Command twice a week on the situation, so he could only assume that the reports were being discussed. It was disturbing to Jake, the freedom that the Romulans took in trespassing over the border, however technical that borderline may be. Be that as it may, they were here for monitoring only, and not even for this Romulan situation, but for outside threats. So they did their duties and unless Starfleet changed the S.O.P their mission would remain as such.

As for the Captain, he had plenty of time now to observe her, to observe her interactions with the crew and the way they reacted to her, took orders from her. She was standard Starfleet material, by the book type of officer. He was surprised that he had even been tasked with keeping an eye on her, and he did so, to the extent of his abilities to do so, in capacity of X.O. Something that brightened his days was the monthly reports he received from Command, which contained the Captain's personal logs that were being filed once a week. They proved for rather dull reading, full of mostly technical details and updates. He definitely wouldn't want to serve under her in a combat situation; she was an officer, a desk officer, which in the Corps was the ultimate insult. Commands were what is what all about, but it seemed that Captain Shar'Al had received a command by default, doing everything so by the book that they couldn't refuse her a command if they had tried. So she had been given a primarily scientific vessel, and a respectable one at that, so no one could say that she had just been given a command and shuffled out of the way. The Talon's mission was part of the Expedition Task Force, part of the outer limit of watchdogs patrolling the perimeter Of course, many were of the opinion that they shouldn't be out here, that it was wasteful in a time where resources had been strictly rationed out by the Federation Council. But it had been deemed necessary by the Starfleet Security Council, which had overridden the decision of the F.C. and ordered the mission go, sending out a total of 1400 vessels for patrol along the border territories. They were all Noble class vessels and were all huge, costing obscene amounts of credit. It had caused a bit of a tiff between the two councils for awhile, the enormous expense of the mission not easily explainable to the general Federation public, necessary as it might be for a large percentile of Federation territory \security.

So the weeks passed, the Talon drifting in a stationary orbit right on the edge of Samarian, monitoring their surroundings as well as Samarian space and the Romulan activity throughout the system, remaining undetectable for her stay in the system, Starfleet Command the only ones who knew their exact location. And in return, the Talon only beamed tight beam packet reports back to Starfleet Headquarters. She otherwise ran silent as per S.O.P., her officers confined to living inside the little bubble in space that was the Talon, once a week moving to the edge of the system and transmitting all the crews personal messages as well as logs and reports along with everything else, as well as receiving messages back from their loved ones, new orders for the crewmen, everything that was needed, all in two seconds flat, one to beam data out, one to beam data in. As the months passed by, the Romulan traffic through the area increased exponentially. The Romulans must have known that they were being detected, even cloaked, no one could hide the space signature of ships on the scale they were seeing. The Romulans in reality controlled the system, with about 20-40 vessels patrolling the outer edge of the system continuously, and there were enough emissions to say that there were another few vessels massed at the outside of the system, in Unclaimed Space, waiting.

7 months into their current mission, the Talon's command crew received revised orders telling them to de-cloak and begin active patrols of the Samarian system, at the behest of the Samarian Central Council. Apparently, the Samarians own sensor array had picked up the huge amount of neutrino emissions and had asked the Federation to investigate further. Jake knew exactly what was going on here, it was classic Starfleet tactics, baiting the Romulans into revealing their presence in the system. The only thing he didn't necessarily like about the situation was that he was on the ship serving as bait. So beginning at 0600 the following morning they moved into position in a Geo-Centric orbit around Samaria and de-activated their cloaking device. They then proceeded with a normal day, going about the same routines that they would have either way, a beacon of different spectrum lights shining out in the darkness for all to see. They had constant comms now, and stayed in touch with Starfleet, updating the situation on an hourly basis now. Starfleet went about notifying the Federation committee that had dealt with the Samarians to officially disclose the Romulan presence in the Samarian system. When the Samarians found out, they were not happy to say the very least. They ordered their ships to Red Alert and sent a transmission to Romulus declaring Samaria, and by definition, the Federation, was at a state of war with the Romulan Star Empire. There was no change in the status of the Talon, and she remained in station keeping in orbit of Samaria, her orders telling her that the Samarian navy would be handling the situation on their own.

The Samarian navy moved into a defensive position around Samarian IV, around the outer of the three habited planets in the system. It was a fleet of 46 ships, all the same class, and were comparable to the light raider vessels Starfleet deployed in rapid response emergency situation, non-com. 25 years ago. Lightly armed, lightly armored, and mostly used for recovery operations and they thought they could take on the Star Empire's finest warbirds in operation Drak'Thul class, or English for Saber-Tooth in its best translation. It was madness. Samaria obviously knew it and was making a statement, trying to stand up to the bully in town, but they would likely just get their teeth kicked in. The Samarian's patrol routes would inevitably cross the Romulans traffic through the system, and a torch would light, it was just a matter of when.

The bridge of the Talon was massive, as befitted the size of the vessel. The bridge was 80 Km long, and each department had a station there, staffed day and night by a representative of that dept. 189 people a shift. There was a command alcove pushed all the way back, and was separated from the rest of the bridge, with an interior wardroom attached to it on one side and the Captains private quarters on the other side. Every day, for a 15 minute period the rolling shifts would meet and brief, getting ready for the next morning/night. The Samarian Navy had there daily patrol routes throughout the system, while the Talon guarded the actual planets. And the months passed in this manner, the constant threat of a flare-up keeping everyone on their toes. The tensions were high, the crew mostly civilian, yet constantly worried about a break out of hostilities, their work suffered, moral suffered. This was not a climate for this type of vessel. Perhaps a squad of Alpha class vessels that had the combined firepower of the Talon, and could still carry out the mission required here, while offering more flexibility. But the Talon, and all the Noble class vehicles, were limited by their size and the scope of their operations and responsibilities. Their mission out here was vital to the Federations security, and she was resource intensive. All this meant was that she could not be placed in harm's way. Although harm for the Talon was on a different scale then with most ships. The aforementioned Alpha class vessel would find itself well matched with one Romulan Bird-of-Prey, while the Talon could fend off a battalion of 50 ships for hours on end, without even moving a cubic inch. This was one of the specific reasons she was out here, because she wouldn't need support unless an armada came at it, and even then, the Talon was far too valuable to be sacrificed, and would certainly not fight to the death. In that case, she would deal out what damage she could and then warp out of the system, if it came to that. But there were perhaps a battalion or so waiting for them out there, and they could handle it if it came down to them being attacked. But they weren't in too much danger of that, not while the Samarians foolishly made a show of defiance to the Romulans. Jake, as well as the Command staff and certain other key members of the crew understood that the Talon was actually in very little danger. Romulus could little afford a war with the Federation at this point, dealing with a massive Reman rebellion. The Reman uprising had been ongoing for the past 48 years straight, and it had been vicious fighting. Not that there was any end in sight to the hostilities. Romulus and Remus were twin planets, orbiting around each other, their gravities in a constant fight against the others. The Romulans had enslaved the Remans when they had settled Romulus, and had used the species as slaves, and had used Remus only for mining, coring the planet within 20 years, leaving it a barren, hostile wasteland. He couldn't blame the Remans for fighting their war, and he was happy that the Romulans had little resources to spare; otherwise, he really would be a bit more worried.

It happened with a flash. A Samarian vessel was going along its patrol routes on the outer edge of the system. A small cutter vessel, moving at Warp 7 around the perimeter of the system, continuously. A Romulan Shak'Ta'Ra class of vessel, a heavy warbird, one of their newest classes, about 27 Km down her bow had been making its way into the system, relieving one of her cloaked sister ships in the system. The Talon had been tracking and updating Starfleet, which had been updating the Samarians continuously. The Samarians must have known that their cause was hopeless, that they could not stand against the Romulan battalion in the system. The Samarian ship, the Yes We Can! had slammed headlong into the Shak'Ta'Ra, right through her midsection, completely destroying both ships, first by exposing both ship's decks to instant vacuum that even emergency forcefields weren't fast enough to compensate for. Most of the crew was blown right through the nearest port or hatch or whatever was around them. The rest were killed when the Yes We Can!'s warp core had gone critical, vaporizing whatever or whomever had still been alive. All that had been left was a small debris cloud floating through space. By the time the Talon picked up on her sensor's what had happened, it had been history. No emergency pods launched, no life-signs whatsoever detected.

A few things happened at once then. The Romulan battalion de-cloaked and began to regroup from all about the system. When they achieved a classic Romulan attack wedge known as the Ragraur, with the lead vessel being Beti'Cosa class, a huge daunting looking vessel that had never been seen decloaked before. And she was a fearsome sight to behold, even for Commander Elridge sitting safely on the bridge of the Talon. The Captain had been paged to the bridge, and she was on her way from the Holo-Suites on deck 12, where she had been playing Hockey with some of the crew-men. He had watched in horror as the report had come in, and had ordered the shields and weapons systems activated, purely for self defense. Their orders were clear, and he could not interfere here. He could not interfere as he watched the Romulan battalion regroup and begin to open fire on the Samarian ships, which were full of barely trained Samarian soldiers who were inexperienced in space combat tactics and were still trying to hastily get into something even resembling a formation. So the Romulan fleet moved casually through the system, picking of vessels one by one, overloading the Samarian vessel's shields with phaser fire, and then destroying the ships with Quantum torpedoes.

By the time Captain Shar'al got to the bridge, half the Samarian fleet had been wiped out as the bridge crew of the Talon sat back and watched, the look on their faces saying it all. They were ready to fight, if given the chance. They were the only ones who could make a difference here. And yet Jake had his orders, and would follow them until death would come himself and do him in. People much wiser then him had given him his orders, and he wasn't about to disobey them. This was a delicate situation, as had been made perfectly to him, and he was here to see out Starfleet's orders to the absolute letter. He was sorry for the Samarians, but they had brought this on themselves. They could have requested assistance from Starfleet, but instead had done the exact opposite, trying to fend off the enemy alone. So he watched. When Captain Shar'al assessed the situation she snapped. "What the hell are you doing Commander?" She turned to the Lieutenant the helm. "What the hell are you doing Mister? Move into position for strafing runs on those Romulan vessels. Initiate Red Alert procedures." She threw one more baleful glaze at the Commander as she sat down in her command alcove, which was just to the right of his own. As she was still sitting he was getting up from his chair, which was leaned all the way back, with three holo-displays above him showing what was going on outside. Now he went over to stand right next to her, just outside of the alcove. He spoke quietly when he did speak to her, almost afraid of the crew around them hearing this conversation. He almost didn't know what to say, and he stuttered for a few seconds, in which time he felt the ship tilt heavily downwards and to the right, in pursuit of the battalion out there, and he knew he had to move quickly. "Captain, not to be disrespectful, but what exactly are you doing, sir? We have orders, do we not?"

Her eyes blazed up at him, her squat face, framed by her close-cut black hair, seemingly igniting in fury. "Are you implying that we should allow those people to be slaughtered, because they were trying to make a political point?" "Well Captain, as I said, we have very specific orders, likely to help us not get into a war with the Romulans, sir." "Well Commander, I am superseding those orders, in the sake of cooperation with a Federation member, whose people are under siege, outgunned, and outmanned. Those ships out there will lay waste to that planet out there when their done with the fleet?" "I guess you would know that Captain, wouldn't you?" She stood now, rising from her command chair like an demon scorned. "Commander, I am ordering you to stand down, return to your console, and follow my orders. If you cannot do so, I will find someone who can." She stood there with her hands on her hips, watching him, huffing like a madwoman. "Captain, I cannot in good conscience allow you to.." The Lieutenant at the conn cut him off. "Captain, I'm in range of combatants, awaiting your orders." The mood on the bridge was electric, everyone now watching the Command deck with one eye, the other watching his or her stations. "Commander, stand down, Lieutenant, open fire at will." Jake jumped off the Command deck and towards Lieutenant Michaels. "Belay that last Lieutenant." He whirled around, angry now. "Captain, I am forced to order you to stand down, with the authority of Command behind me, Starfleet Charter Code 16." She was shocked, frozen to her spot. "Does this have something to do with your…secret communiqués from Starfleet, Commander?" "Captain, this is a basic situation, one which you are reading, as well as executing entirely wrong. Any other orders I might have don't even matter, I would be doing this regardless. Now if you don't stand down, I will be forced to take other measures, Captain."

"Well do so Commander, because I am not stepping down. Lieutenant, engage those ships out there, that's a direct order." She walked off the Command deck and towards the Lieutenant, who was twitching, sweating nervously at his post. Jake wasn't left with an option. "Computer, execute order sequence Alpha-Beta-Beta-Blue-Niner-Oh." Suddenly, the bridge lights dimmed, and moved from their current Red Alert status to their normal white hue, but very dim, emergency power only. "Commander, what have you done?" "I think you know very well Captain. I have shut down most of the ship. When you stand down and turn the ship over to me, I will have you escorted to the bridge. Is that understood Captain?" She laughed. "Turn over control? Are you mad?" She turned away from him, and walked calmly down the length of the bridge, over to the ensign holding his post by the turbolift, one of the 4 guards on deck. She reached over, and pulled the phaser from the holster at the mans belt, then again calmly made her way back over to him, standing by the helm. Her eyes promised were steel, promising death. He too stood calmly, his right hand at his side, the left leaning casually against the helm control station. She pointed the phaser at his head. "Commander, if you don't restore to me control of my vessel, I am going to kill you. I am attempting to follow through on the spirit of the promise that was made to these people, and you are standing in my way. The bridge crew is with me. Do you understand me?" He was sweating. "I understand Captain, but you must understand that as a Starfleet office, I am obligated to follow my orders. The thought was just running through my head today Captain, how the people writing our orders know better then us field folk what's going on out here. Killing me will accomplish nothing." She smiled at him. "That's where you're wrong Commander. When I kill you, the computer will automatically transfer power to the third in command, being the Lieutenant sitting to your left." She fired the phaser point blank at his face, but all he saw was the blinding light, and when the final thought crossed through his mind, it was only that he thought that the light was better then darkness, and then it was over.

Starbase 42 Sector Command Report

Stardate: 070047, 2157

Captain Nate B. Connelly to Sector Command, Starfleet, Rear-Fleet Admiral Mackenzie CC: Secretary General Belaka'Busar, Admiral Shiral Benzote, Federation Chariman Guy Fironie

Begin Transmission/Message Text

U.S.S. Talon has been destroyed in defense of Samaria, undergoing attack from Romulan battalion. Samaria has undergone heavy bombardment; most of planetary population has been killed. Talon had standing orders not to engage. Starbase unequipped for combat. Romulan fleets have been detected massing at Neutral Zone border, as well as currently holding Samarian space. Situation deteriorating quickly. Please advise on updated situation.

End Transmission/Text


End file.
